AC = 20
HP = 36/36
Weapon Equipped = Not precious Noogie, we'll go with the skewer stick we'll call Prickle
Condition(s) = Good Aligned Prickle
Mimi decides that the demon is just too sneaky for her to leave her back anywhere other than against a wall. She backs into the corner M-7 and keeps her new Prickle ready to stab at the babau, should it be foolish enough to cross her reach.
Readied Attack:
Prickle:1d20 + 7 ⇒ (9) + 7 = 16for1d8 ⇒ 3piercing damage, including the Good quality
"Is it going to flit about, and cast aspersions from a safe distance? Makes sense, actually. We're four, it's only one. It's probably never had serious pushback before."
Mimi resists the urge to tap her new skewer like a walking staff, tucking it under her armpit, and doing her best to walk in the middle of the hallway to avoid the clatter of cold iron against stone wall.
Stealth:1d20 + 10 ⇒ (13) + 10 = 23
"Do you think we'll smell the demon before we see it?"
Mimi keeps her distance from both stewer and steward, listening politely enough, while her hackles continue to thrum with dissatisfaction. When the utensils are offered, she joins the others in examining what might be brought to bear on a demon.
She recognizes potential, hanging within the kitchen fireplace. A nice, long piece of iron, something upon which roasts and turns, in turn. She removes the spit, and spends some time cleaning it off.
Thinking Longspear. Crafted specifically for Castle Ravenloft, I gotta think its crit range is 14-20...
Mimi is usually well-stocked with words, but her jaw sets firmly when she lays eyes on the dwarf, then clenches when she rips them from Cyrus to fix them on Strahd.
She only answers the Count by doing as she's bid to pass through the door.
Mimi strains to see what approaches, considering immediately dropping into the floor fog, and scuttling like a crab towards the lantern-bearer. She remains standing for now.
"Come closer, so we can see you plain. When you do, you'll understand we're not fine folks. I mean, just look at us. We're entertainers-turned-investigators. Besides, we're not tired."
Mimi shuffles over to the table, and dons a pair of spectacles just powerful enough for her to position her nose a footspan from the pages of the thick book. "What do you suppose this book makes this room?" If she needs to, she turns a page or two to get a better understanding of the contents of the book.
Mimi's eyes enlargenify as she takes in the grandeur of the tower, however menacing. "The gods wept, look at this place. If I were a harpy, I'd really be able to stretch my wings, really soar through this scary airy. I think it reveals my deep fear of heights, wanting wings, however harpy they may be." The old woman pulls her eyes away from the sky, then concentrates on the stairs downwards.
"Boulders and arrows? What do you think that means?"
"Very valiant of you, Flem. You might look more alluring with a clawmark across your mug." Mimi wonders how much space will be kept between the troupe and the demonspawn. Small quarters, large halls, she's almost curious enough to want to set eyes on its lair.
She turns back to Helga. "I won't blame you if the Count makes you attack us when we least expect it, just know I'll be severely disappointed." Mimi clicks her heels.
Mimi can't help but ask a little more of Helga. "How did it happen, Helga? How were you drained? How were you cursed? You sound reasonable, but you have to be, because you are confined to the Castle. Once we figure out how to overcome the Count, will you remain here, or will you roam the countryside, looking for sustenance?"
When the boys decide to tackle a demon, the Crow doesn't object right away. Once they see how large and evil and deadly the demon probably is, she'll find a way to avoid dying, and hope they'll do the same.
"Any suggestions regarding demons, Tural? Never met one, wouldn't want to overstep myself."
Mimi huffs. "No wonder this place is filthy. There's only one of you and so many rooms. The spiders continually make more work for you, and your arms are far too short to reach the nooks and crannies."
The old woman senses an opportunity. "You know, Borracho has his very own nooks and crannies..."
Mimi looks over the boys' shoulders, while keeping post in the hallway, looking both ways before returning her attention to the new heartbeat in the doorway.
"Are you injured, young lady? We just visited with Lief, and he mentioned that he's a little tender around his collar."
Mimi marks the Rope mentally, before looking about the clerical man's tabletops. "If you have any blank pages, would you mind if I used them?" If the old woman is allowed, she tucks several sheets of paper behind her belt, and begins tearing little pieces, and dropping them along the way, leading out of the Rope room.
When Borracho finds the skeletal fingers, she also tucks a balled up piece of paper between the fleshless knuckles, a reminder of the hand's function in opening the secret door.
"We haven't addressed the possibility that one or some of us get lost here in the Castle. If we get separated, should we retreat to the Chapel? The first floor Dining Room? We've been lucky so far, but all these secret doors could become secret walls that divide and conquer the unwary..."
In other news, the band Worm just released an album titled Necropalace, its album art seems quite familiar...
"Lief sweetie, if you don't mind me asking- what does that rope do? I'm only curious, I promise not to touch it, but it looks like something that would summon a butler. In Castle Ravenloft, I'm assuming it would not be a butler summoned..."
...
Mimi follows along, growing more impatient with each door opened. "Not that I'm complaining, but does it feel like this place is kinda empty? No chittering allips, no bone brigade... the Count like his privacy so much? Might be why he doesn't kidnap Ireena and bring her here- probably die of boredom..."
"You said 'Many Things', didn't you." Mimi wipes her hand of shackle grease, picking herself up and away from the accountant. "You're saying that the Deck is somewhere in this Castle?" The old woman looks about the room on the off-chance the man is nearsighted enough that a cruel Count might have dangled such a golden chest just outside the myopic man's range of vision. She pouts a little when her own eyes fail to find the fortune.
"They say a lucky pull from the Deck can restore youth..." Mimi looks to her companions. "Strange that Madame Eva's already demonstrated the power of an occult pack of cards, and here we are, hearing about another." The Crow waits for the others to gather their thoughts about their next direction, while looking over Lief.
"Suppose it wouldn't hurt to turn over more stones. If we get lucky enough to find that golden chest you mention, we might have one hells of an evening sitting around the table."
Mimi doesn't like the look of the rope. She doesn't look the man in the eyes when she joins Borracho in greeting the shackled man. Instead, she watches the man's closer hand and the rope.
"You poor dear. Why on earth are you chained to that desk?"
Emboldened by, of all things, dust, Mimi moves to the obvious door in the room, nearest the throne. She looks the door over for not-so-obvious traps, doing what she can to lessen the danger, before opening said door, and giving more of the Castle a look-see.
"Awww, you make a girl blush." Mimi might sound like she jests, but the purr of her voice suggests that she's genuinely flattered. "Now imagine how many more little surprises lie in wait for us. Your younger eyes are keener, so I'll appreciate any stone you turn over. I'll keep my fingers limber."
"In for a penny..." Mimi examines the trap, wondering what exactly happens were one foolish enough to trigger it. If there's a way to disarm it, the Crow certainly tries.
Mimi raises an eyebrow, and nods. "The statue was an odd bird. Why would a profane fanged fellow have something like that lying about? You pose an interesting idea. I myself am not capable of consecrating ground..." The old woman lowers the first eyebrow, while raising the second eyebrow while turning to Tural, wordlessly asking.
"You've been right about things like this before, Tural. We've benefited already by visiting the Chapel, and your instinct tells you we've been deceived. You may be right." Mimi considers the ups and downs of Castle Ravenloft, and whether or not to sit down and anticipate the true Strahd's arrival.
Mimi looks up on the ghouls as the troupe begins its departure from the chapel. "I'm a hobbyist, you know. I collect names, and you two being such unique souls, I would adore to obtain yours before we take our leave. Oh, and where exactly in this godforsaken castle are those witches you so generously warn us to avoid?"
"That is a most holy object, much like Borracho!... No matter, I will honor the deed, so they might know joy and rapture before they know oblivion, for such is the way of Borracho.""
Mimi gasps. "The way of Borracho? Tell me that only applies to the undead. I can't imagine all those women you whisk away after performances end up as corpses. That's grim, Borracho. You need to paint prettier pictures."
The old woman gives plenty of space for the orator to fill his lungs, and bring forth wonderful words, but she also studies the ghouls, probably more the man than the woman, because they tend to aggress more. "You two speak so well for what you appear to be. When you look down on us, do you see your next meal? Will you take offense when we fight back? Are you even the kind of undead that mindlessly attacks the living for daring to live in their presence? Oh, you make me think so many questions."
"Well, that's a bird of a feather." Her feet tingle a little with their own plumage, and the Crow wonders if she's become the Raven, this side of the Mists...
"Tell us more, Tural. Is it holy? Is it evil? A shrine to the darkness beneath the wings of a worshipped avian? It's a lovely thing, to say the least, and I'm on the verge of breaking my vows to leave-it-alone..."
Mimi flinches as the webs are set on fire. "I'm more of a leave-it-alone house guest. I know, I know, this isn't a true social call. Still, the Count is quick to anger..."
The old woman follows closely, impressed at the size of the establishment. "Feels like we should be dropping bread crumbs."
Mimi picks up a turkey leg from the dining table, and casually picks at it while they begin to explore. She's curious to see if its meat is also an illusion, when they leave the room proper.
"So, Ireena. The Count is keen on her. Do you think she knows this already? Do you think the Burgomaster does? The Count has now admitted twice that he's not able to control slimes or undead. Well, at least the ones attempting to end our lives..." The old woman continues to pick things over.
"He wants to cling to his own illusions. Probably good we didn't call him 'vampire' to his face." Mimi doesn't enter the secret room, preferring to keep watch behind the boys as they explore.
"Shall we explore more of the first floor? I wonder how much time we have before the Count checks in on us."
Mimi raises an eyebrow, then raises a corner of her mouth. "Your words ring true, Count. We are here to find solutions. Ours, Barovia's," the Crow raises a glass, "...perhaps even your own."
Mimi takes a beat, debating. He's spoken with us. Answered us, even invited us to his table... We're in danger here, to be sure, but we can make it worse.
The old woman takes a seat on the opposite side of the table from the Count. She surveys the feast, and fills a plate. She sets it in front of herself, and watches Flemming first.
"Nubs like a nursing cat, yes. Thank you, Count Strahd." She adjusts the plate in front of her, though she holds off eating anything. She has more questions, and doesn't want to speak with her mouth full.
"There was a slime, Count. Is that part of the Castle's defense? We'd like to apologize for its destruction. I mean, we'd like to, but it feels hollow, when we had to defend ourselves from its obvious threat."
Sleight of Hand v DC 15:1d20 + 11 ⇒ (19) + 11 = 30
"Years of practice, indeed. Count, your dexterity is impressive. My eyes don't often deceive me, but are you trying to? I can see a second image of you, and your hands move so subtly, I might be convinced you're not trying to cast a spell..." Mimi's left hand finds its way below the table to the dagger on her hip...
Mimi loses all pretense when she crosses the threshold. Her back stands fully erect, the hackles raised. Her gait is brisk, and she looks over her shoulder routinely while they move deeper into the Castle. Every so often, she actually walks backwards while the boys head south, her paranoia ramping up as they lose their grip on the outside world.
"Beware of any beautiful things that approach you, Borracho. It won't be your coin purse they'll be tickling you for..."
"I've got some rope, Flem. That should put your mind completely at ease." Mimi isn't looking at the burly man, not while there are great spires to tower above them ominously.
The old woman's hand passes over the pommel of the powerful ghost jabber in her belt, taking some ease that they won't be completely impotent against spectres in the castle.
"That was rude. Inviting us to join him, sending his carriage to bear us hence, then drop a slime on us. Good thinking with the campfire, Flem."
Entering the Front Doors, Mimi shakes her head. "What kind of dialogue do you think the Count is capable of? I'm at a loss. 'What's your favorite villager flavor?' 'Have you heard the Good Word of Sarenrae?' 'Can you hear our heartbeats?' 'How long does your finger need to be a glass of whiskey before you call it properly chilled?'
Mimi rubs her new nubs, impressed that the work is done so efficiently, and a bit awestruck that her journey has seen her Noogie transformed not once, but twice, in order to combat horrors she's only heard of around campfires. Until now.
As the carriage threatens to lull her to sleep, she closes her eyes, but rattles her vocal chords to inquire with her crew. "The killing to come. We have fought off wolves, sure. Zombies even, some things even worse. Are we undertaking a purge of the Castle? Anything that moves? What if Strahd has himself villagers in there, sworn to protect their lord? Vampires can addle brains, right? We're not just going to beat down everything that seeks to oppose us? I've never killed a man, and I don't care to start." The Crow goes mum for a spell.
...
Arriving at the Castle, Mimi pays attention to Borracho paying attention to the great construction. "I could see you living in something that grand, Borracho. Only something less gloomy, perhaps some gypsy music echoing from the higher windows. This feels more like a tomb..."
The old woman gets out, and proceeds to walk through the Front Doors, eager to get out of the courtyard, and away from the dead eyes of the gargoyles. "Hurry up, boys. Don't want to keep the Count waiting."
Mimi stretch-squats several times, restless, nervous, and a bit preparatory. She listens to the questions, the speculations, the presumptions, the perditions, and she shakes her head of the darker thoughts, trying to see the hope in this pilgrimage.
"So, as soon as we step into the Castle, we can't leave, unless the Count grants us leave. Does that include the bridge? the courtyard? Where is the point of no return?" Mimi cracks her knuckles, working out the stiffness.
"Jakob, there are only four of us. We can't afford to lose any one of us when we enter the Castle. So I'll ask this- exactly how many monsters walk the halls in that deathtrap? I count one Count. How many witches? Are they all equal, or is there a leader? Is that it, or do more creatures stalk the halls? You see, the more we know, the more we can plan. Some beasts need certain steel, some need a weapon like you gifted us. We are going to arm ourselves the best we can, before we depart."
Mimi turns to Tural. "Holy water? Holy fire? Secular fire just as good? Great stone castles probably don't burn down easily, but great halls are great places to throw great fires..."
Mimi frets for her boys. One of them will surely be dead before this is over, she only wonders which.
"He doesn’t control me! I can leave the castle whenever I want and visit the village."
Mimi smiles, though the smile tightens at her jaw, as she raises the ire of the specter. "I hoped for that. I'm just sorry that you had to die in order to leave the Castle on your own accord." The old woman looks to their Sarenrite, curious, but not curious enough to remain silent while she wonders what wood is burning behind Tural's divine eyes.
"Phantom pup, do you have a name? Does your family? Do the brothers?" Mimi hesitates. "Do the witches?" She doesn't like the idea that they become more real to her when she learns the names, but she doesn't have time for ignorance.
"A trap. You're warning us about the Castle. You're very kind, and you're very strong to come all this way." Mimi sits down, and clasps her hands instead of her shawl, placing them firmly in her lap.
"If you died in the Castle, are you also forbidden to leave? Does he control everything that can come and go? If so, that means the lord willed your visit here tonight." The Crow grows quiet, and waits to hear what the ghost might offer as a reply.
Mimi's eyes widen fully as the ghost enters the room. Its presence is otherworldly, of course, but it's also something other than an allip and its incoherent chattering. This one speaks, and so politely.
"Why? Why would you warn us, phantom pup?" Mimi holds still, her hand clasping at her shawl, slowly raising it under her chin.
Mimi literally sleeps with one eye open, though it rolls up into her skull and stays out of harm's way. It rolls back down at the sound of the scratching, and is joined by the other eye, which opens fully.
She sees the boys rising from the corner of her eye, while approaching the window, and seeking the source of the scratching.
Mimi looks pleased, as she tucks the keys away. "I'm all for getting rid of the coffin. Vampires within the town perimeter? Despicable. I'll admit, the keys feel more like a trophy, so remind me to hand them over when the time comes."
The Crow is not above helping moving the various contents of the Vault to buildings considered more sacred and prohibitive to vampires entering. During the work, she inquires with the others.
"Supposing we travel to the Count's Castle, what's to say the gates never open when we call on him to answer? Do we approach him as performers, seeking patronage? Something less... adversarial?"
It takes all of four minutes for the Crow to nest by the fire of the tavern, and fall into a deep, deep sleep. A sleep so deep, her ears no longer hear the reassurances of Tural, the bravado of Borracho, and the beneficence of Flemming. The praise of the people, neither. The ears only hear the crackle of the burning wood, and it eases the rabbit in her mind seeking to run away from the fangs of the black night.
A nudge to retire only wakens Mimi for the quiet that will be the rest of the night. She will keep watch, she will listen, and she will report anything that tests the sanctuary that is the tavern.
...
At daybreak, Mimi nurses a small distillate of kahve, and waits for the boys to wake, so she can ready herself for the next confrontation. She checks and double checks the presence of the Vault keys. She holds one of them up, and makes it disappear from most sightlines, before allowing it to be visible to all. It works out some of the arthritis, and it works out some of the anxiety.
Flemming wrote:
"Why not give the keys to the leaders of this community and let them handle it."
Mimi stops her manipulations, the key held between two knuckles. "How did the keys end up in the possession of the vampire? Stolen? Given away, willingly? We should determine that first, before we hand them off. If the vampire craves the safety of that Vault again, they'll seek the keys again..."
Mimi finds the two Vault Keys, inspecting them for their obvious quality. When she turns away, the two Keys are no longer sitting on the shelf.
"Sunlight on the coffin is fine by me. Sweeping it free of the dirt, too. Might even be a nice enough coffin to someone in the village in need of a proper burial." Mimi speaks without really watching the boys, as she's more interested in the more secular possessions still remaining inside the Vault. They'll need seeing to.
Mimi watches stoically as Flemming and Tural dispatch the obviously unwelcome undead leftover. "A wight? One is bad enough. You know what they say about two wights..."
The old woman stands at the doorway of the Vault, giving it a methodical once-over, before entering the Vault, and slowly walking the entirety of the floor.
Mimi dons her armor methodically, looking back at the Vault Doors, and readying to apply her more than average skills to see the Doors fully overcome. She is unwilling to leave the basement of the Church until her work is seen the whole way through. She stops several times during the safecracking to rub her hands, stretch her arms, dry her fingertips...
The crone will Take 20, doing her best to avoid actually breaking the locks or her picks in the process :)
"There you are... you little biter you..." Mimi traces a finger from the second lock down the door to the floor below. In her peripheral gaze, she can swear she sees the raven feathers twitching lightly, irritated the same way she feels as she recognizes the danger she faces.
She slowly starts to unstrap her mithral breast plate from under her overshirt. "Boys, I'm going to ask you to leave the basement. You're going to ask why, so I'm going to inform you that the floor is about to lash out with lightning, as I try to pop the lock. It's a formidable little thing, so I'm going to get shocked at least once, and I don't want you enduring my failures. Failure, let's be optimistic. Do we understand each other?" The old woman produces her tools, and waits just long enough for the others to depart. She calls out to Tural.
"Now, I might yelp. If I do, will you attend to my burns? I don't want to lose to this lock, but I'm not stupid either. I don't know how bright the floor is going to get." She remains quiet while they leave, though not for long.
Disable Device v DC 26:1d20 + 14 ⇒ (1) + 14 = 15
"YELP!"
The Crow crows in pain, then squats in front of the Vault Door, awaiting her helpful healer to check her status. She's been injured before in such ventures, so if she's barely injured, she waves Tural back upstairs and takes a second swing.
Disable Device v DC 26:1d20 + 14 ⇒ (10) + 14 = 24
"BLASTED!"
The old woman pats her the fumes from her forearms, undeterred. She waits again, expecting that Tural will know well enough if she requires a patch-up, but she felt something she missed the first time she binded a pin, and knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that the lock is not invincible.
Disable Device v DC 26:1d20 + 14 ⇒ (13) + 14 = 27
"Third time, bird chime." Mimi sounds the all-clear.
Mimi sees the streaks of blue as a sign. Streaks of blue, streaks of luck, let's see if Lock number 2 reveals its danger, after umpteen attempts... it's not going anywhere, and neither am I.
Perception, Trapfinding:1d20 + 8 + 3 ⇒ (19) + 8 + 3 = 30+5 more if the Burglin' Boots help out with anything more than traps in the floor hehehe
Mimi sidles up to Flemming, securing the boots that bear the black feathers. "We'll see how these do, walking the halls of a castle..." She turns to Flemming. "Be a dear, would you?" She hands the form-fits to the Fist, hoping he'll help her slip into them.
"You, my dear, have a gift already from me, be sure you wear it when you meet the Count."
Mimi raises her left hand, showing the others a lovely ring on her finger. "You shouldn't have, but you did, and I won't insult your kindness by trying to return it just yet." She really means to ask further.
"So... it's in the cards. We meet the Count." Mimi rubs the arm of her chair with her free hand, slowly putting together Madam Eva's caution to use a powerful magical ring around what might be a powerful magical man. "He reads minds. The genie's wish of all diplomat fops." The Crow helps herself to more wine, and raises her glass.
"To our benefactor, generous to a fault. To our guardian angel, mysterious enough to preserve our sanity."
As Mimi enters through the doorway, she takes a moment to lean towards Madam Eva in her new guise, and kiss the older woman's right and left cheek with her own cheeks, in that order. "We were, uh, busy tending to the daunting amount of undead in this region. Forgive us for the delay." The Crow takes a seat, and avails herself of the wagon's hospitality, for the essentials of life such as food and wine should never be declined, when the next instance of access might be denied for awhile.
"Tural certainly considers the troupe's comings and goings, something you must be well-versed to discuss with us, should you consider it important enough." Mimi selects the closest goblet, lifting it and dropping it back down on the tray, to make sure that the magic only supports the tray, and not the goblet.
"I am much more concerned about the evil lurking in this land, and how likely we are to die by allip, or vampire, or skeleton, or zombie, or hell-worg, or withered corpse, or..." Mimi raises the goblet in a gesture that suggests she could continue with her list, but risks embellishment.
"Madam Eva, do tell us how dire is our circumstance. We mustn't be caught with our drawers down. We are learning quickly that our armaments are one step behind the next fell creature that lopes from the mists to besiege us." Mimi downs her wine, looking for the next fill.
"Fill your bellies, the stew is hot and the bread is fresh. Ma’am, may I escort you to a seat?”
Mimi smiles, and curls a more bony than muscled hand around the forearm of the mastiff of a man. She pats it appreciatively, and nods. "We are having the time of our life in these lands. It's good to find like souls, and break bread, like Borracho said."
She takes in the travelers' camp the best she can. She knew they'd find themselves in the company of Madam Eva, as promised, but she can't help but chide herself that Horatio himself might be part of the fuzzy equation. "Good to see you again, master gnome. I didn't think time could make you look wiser, but here we are." She smiles her approval of a familiar face, and doesn't hide her looking elsewhere for the accompanying one.
